Fear of the Cold
by Orpheus' Lyre
Summary: Before Shepard of the Alliance, there was John of the 10th Street Reds.


There was a cold breeze coming off the river and John suppressed the shiver. He slowly and defiantly wiped the blood from the side of his mouth and looked directly into his attacker's eyes. It didn't take long for the man to approach again; he brushed his fingers over the bronze knuckle duster. And then he swung again, John ducked and slammed his knee into the man's gut before swiftly ploughing his fist straight up through the man's jaw.

He staggered back and John stepped back toward the river and sunk into the shadow from the bridge. The man looked around wildly, as he try to regain his focus. Finally his eyes settled on John and he spat at the ground.

"You're done, kid. Ya can't hide from the Sharks!" He yelled, before turning and jogging away. John watched until the man had all but disappeared from sight before risking turning away himself, he made his way to the waterfront and washed the blood from his face and hands. He stood up and finally took a moment to pull the wallet he had procured earlier from his jean pocket.

John was surprised at how much cash the guy had been carrying around, he pulled it out and stuffed it into his pocket before leafing through the rest of the wallet. There was a few cards, a couple of condoms, and a jet black ring with a shark insignia stuffed into the cash compartment. John grabbed the condoms and stuffed them in his back pocket, and threw the rest into the river.

John felt the chill more keenly now, the adrenaline rush wearing off and the dread sinking into his heart with the realisation that he'd made an enemy of one of the most dangerous gangs in the city. He started home and tried to clear his mind, eventually coming off the river bank and weaving his way through the various alleyways.

The sun was beginning to set when John turned into another alleyway. It was completely deserted so he stopped for a moment, spying a can sitting in a drain he reached out his hand and tried to focus his mind. He held his breath and clenched his jaw as he strained to make it come to him, within a few seconds a vague bluish hue appeared around his fingers and the can began to twitch. But John couldn't hold it and slumped against the opposite wall, trying to catch his breath.

The sound of hands clapping hit him like a train and he tensed up and spun to see the intrusion. This man had a wry grin plastered across his face as he slowly approached.

"Nice party trick, kid. Maybe you coulda used that against the shark and saved yourself that rather disgustingly swollen lip."

"Fuck you." John said bitterly, backing away the whole time.

"Well, now, that's just plain mean. I just wanna talk." He said, baring his teeth in an attempt at a reassuring smile.

"Like shit you do. Just leave me alone."

"I would, I really would. But you see, our paths have intersected and as such we are inexplicably tied to the events of each others future."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Apologies… I read a lot." He said, with eyes darting around the alleyway as if surveying possible escape routes.

"Huh?"

"What I mean to say, boy, is I have a proposition for you."

"Are you with the Sharks?" John asked warily.

"Do I look like an immigrant or a gypsy?" He replied, almost insulted.

"Then who the fuck are you?"

"Call me Malcolm, I'm with the 10th Street Reds."

"Never heard of 'em."

"We like to keep a low profile."

"So, what do you want?"

"Here's the deal: You join us, we offer you protection from the Sharks and train you to do more than make a tin can wobble with that wonderful ability of yours."

"What's in it for you?"

"We're looking for some young blood, and to put it bluntly: we want to exploit your biotics."

John looked the man in the eyes, trying to see if he was genuine. The two were still for a few minutes, "My what?" John asked finally.

"That's what the military wants to call it, most of you kids have been rounded up. Lucky day… Look… just be at this address at six tomorrow evening." He said, pulling a card from his pocket and dropping it to the ground. He turned on his heel and started making a rapid exit.

"And if I refuse?" John called after him.

"Then you'll never see me again." He called back before turning the corner.

John picked up the card, seeing an address scrawled on it. Somewhere in the factory district.

He shoved it into his now fairly full pockets and made his way along the final few roads to get home, he grabbed a few hotdogs from a stand when the vendor was distracted and slipped into the alleyway. It didn't take long to climb up to the busted fire escape, and slip into the abandoned apartment he called home. He placed the hotdogs on the windowsill and looked around the room.

"Anna?" He called. In the silence a pair of vividly blue eyes peered around the corner of the doorframe, the eight year old girl padded into the room cautiously and whispered.

"Johnny? What took you so long?"

"I got held up, nothing to worry about." John replied quickly. "I brought hotdogs!"

"I was worried." She said quietly, "I… wasn't sure if you were coming back."

John saw the hurt look on her face and enveloped her in a comforting hug, "Annalise, I could never leave you. The Shepard's stick together, no matter what. Agreed?"

She looked up and seemed to chew at the inside of her cheek before answering, "Agreed."


End file.
